Torn
by FireOpal
Summary: Separation is unnatural. A thing that is not whole is broken. 10DoctorRose, post'Doomsday'.
1. Prologue

**Comments** - Hmmm. Unfortunately, since starting this, I've seen a sudden boom in similar-plotted stories. But I've started now, so I might as well get it written and hold onto my denial a little longer.

**Summary** - _Separation is unnatural. A thing that is not whole is broken. 10Doctor/Rose, post-'Doomsday'_

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**Prologue**

Separation is unnatural.

To separate a mother from its newborn child is to subject the child to pain, and even death. If you cut skin, it will hurt and it will bleed. People who have had limbs amputated tell of phantom feelings from the missing limb, because the mind cannot accept the sudden loss until experience teaches otherwise.

In nature, there is no such division – only change.

When a child leaves its mother to set out on its' own, their relationship has grown and changed over time to get to that point.

Everything in the universe longs to be whole.

To be broken is wrong, unnatural, against these deep laws. It doesn't matter if something is impossible – everything from life forms to ordinary objects long to be joined. If they are separated through unnatural means, they are broken.

So you see, Rose Tyler has to get back to her universe. Not because she isn't whole without the Doctor (which she isn't). It's not because she needs to hear those three words (which she does). It's not because he needs to hold her in his arms, to give him the courage and spirit to go on (which he does). It's all because of that one grain of glittering light, buried deep within her, that sliver of gold that refuses to let go.

She is the Bad Wolf, and the Bad Wolf must go home.

Separation is unnatural. If you cut off its roots, a plant will not grow. If the universe is not whole, if the Bad Wolf doesn't return?

A thing that is not whole is broken.


	2. Chapter 1

**Comments** - Eeek - I hope no-one gets uppity about this... I know it's short, but with the text I have, this seemed the best way to split the beginning. Plus I hope it lives up to you guys' expectations, that's what I'm a tad worried about. I know there are a lot of post-DD fics around at themoment, and that this is just one of many (many _fantastic_ ones I might add :D). So I hope this goes OK...  
Anyway, here's the first chapter - I'll try to keep this posted as often as possible, and keep writing it. Unfortunately, as other stuff keeps getting in the way (damned RL), I shall have to argue with my muse, who doesn't seem to realise there are only so many hours in a day. Enough with me rambling though, and read on.**

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**Chapter 1**

_Gallifrey, Cybermen, Daleks..._

_Rose. _

He woke suddenly, his face coated in cold sweat and his mind racing. His hearts were beating a war-drum rhythm in his chest, matching the speed of his frenzied thoughts.

_Earth, Cybermen, Daleks..._

_Rose. _

Sitting up suddenly, he resisted the urge to retch, knowing there would be nothing to vomit. He hadn't really eaten anything properly since she had left. He just didn't feel hungry, no matter what he did. But he did feel tired - deathly tired.

As he sat, he forced himself to calm, reassuring himself with the familiar surroundings of his bedroom, lonely and empty though it was. Though maybe he didn't notice it anymore, as the TARDIS felt lonely and empty as well when he wandered its corridors. He felt like a marble rattling inside an overly large box, suddenly noticing the solitude without Rose to fill it up.

He had to stop thinking about Rose. It was unhealthy - she was gone, and there was nothing he could do. He should be grateful that she was alive and safe, that she hadn't fallen into the Void. He should be grateful for all the times she'd been there, all the times they'd enjoyed. Shaking himself awake, he pulled himself wearily out of bed, knowing that no matter how exhausted he was, he wasn't going to get any more sleep.

The Doctor glanced in the mirror over his sink as he filled it with warm water, hoping to splash it over his face and wake him up a little - to wash away the pain and fear of the nightmare, even if it wouldn't remove the sorrow and pain of the days. His pale face looked almost ghoulish in the light, and the smudges under his eyes had spread, making him look almost ghoulish. If Rose had been on board, she'd have been worried, would have questioned him about his sleep and got him to talk to her. Her very presence would have reassured and comforted him. But then, if Rose was here, he wouldn't be having the nightmares at all. She had a way of keeping them at bay, like a vanguard of his sleep.

He dressed, forcing himself to tie his tie properly, to do up buttons and put on a freshly ironed shirt even though he couldn't really be bothered. After all, who was going to see him? In all his regenerations, he'd never been particularly conscious of his appearance, so why bother now? Still, he returned to the control room smartly dressed, wondering what to do.

He'd had plans – big plans. He'd wanted to show Rose a million different things - the beauty of a triple-sunset, oceans where you could breathe underwater, the jewelled caverns of Lapidia and the centurial Aurora lights over Bamas, a desert planet. But what was the point of going alone, without seeing her face light up at the new sight? Without Rose's unending enthusiasm, understanding and, well, **love**, who was he?

Just a wanderer of the universe. An eternal nomad, a lonely traveller.

A light on the console beeped at him in a rather polite, sensitive manner, and he looked at it disinterestedly. Hmm... looks like the old girl needed another repair. He'd do that first then. He knew from past experience how easy it was to lose yourself in work, and though he also knew that the pain was much worse when you returned to it, he also welcomed the respite. So, sighing, sonic screwdriver in hand, he crawled under the console and set to rewiring the stabilisers.

When, about an hour or so later, he turned to ask Rose to get him a cup of tea, he didn't cry as memory returned. He just closed his eyes and leant his head back against the floor. Then, slowly, he brought his hands up to cover his face.

* * *

Rose turned over in her bed restlessly, before opening her eyes. Sleep, as it had been since coming here, alone, to this alternate reality, was about as far away as her old bed on the TARDIS, and showed about as much sign of reappearing.

Throwing off her covers, she swung her legs over the side and stood, her feet thankful for the rug underneath as she felt the cold seep up from the bare floor. Jackie had fetched her some clothes when she had refused to go shopping with her, even though their only clothing was that which they had been wearing when they had come through. As a result, Rose could huddle in a soft pair of pyjamas as she searched for a pair of slippers, put them on and headed downstairs.

There were benefits from living in a veritable mansion, she supposed, one of them being the way that no-one else was woken up when she pattered downstairs for a glass of water. Her insomnia was quite complete, and she knew the others were worried about her, though they never mentioned it. She must look quite awful, with her hair in a messy ponytail and the dark circles under her eyes, but she couldn't really bring herself to care.

She found herself reaching for the cocoa instead of a glass of water though when she was in the kitchen, and she managed to find a small, sad smile for the liquid as it steamed, the hot water swirling with the powder. When she was on the TARDIS, cocoa was always the Doctor's favourite method of getting to sleep. Rose remembered sitting in her pyjamas at the kitchen table, nursing a mug like this one while the Doctor sat beside her, not asking, but ready to listen if she wanted to talk.

But she couldn't talk to him, could she? She could never talk to him again. Talk about distance - most couples on Earth could get at most a few continents away from each other, if they were desperate. And she, who had never wanted to be separated from him, was an entire universe away.

Wiping the stray tear from her eye, she stirred the drink and picked it up, carrying it through to the study. To Mickey and Jackie's disbelief, this had quickly turned into her favourite room, though not because she'd had a sudden scholarly inclination. She didn't come in here to read the many books (though she had wondered why Pete had them, as he didn't read either). She knew that was what the others suspected, and she was glad for the subterfuge. If they knew that the reason she came in here was because of the windows... well, they'd give her one of those looks that they seemed to love at the moment - a mixture of pity and sympathy and worry.

But they were truly beautiful windows. Tall and wide, they covered one entire wall, with French windows onto the terrace for when the weather was nice.

The view though...Tonight it was achingly clear, which had probably caused the cool air in her room. Her view not hindered by trees or buildings, the night sky fell out before her like a painter's easel, with the stars dotted on like flecks of frost on a late autumn night, covering pavement and grass. This was why she came in here, because, staring up at those stars, the mug of cocoa warming her hands, she felt close to him. It was ridiculous, she supposed. After all, he wasn't really up there - he wasn't even in this universe. She could imagine the TARDIS zipping about the stars above her, landing on the millions of different planets they sustained, but it was a daydream and nothing more.

But still, she needed it. She needed the sky above her, open like a map as she remembered.

_"So, where are we going to go first?"_

_"That way," he pointed and she followed his finger. Then, quick as lightning, he changed his mind. " No, that way."_

_"That way?" she asked, turning to him. He was watching her almost intently, waiting for her reply._

_"Yeah," he replied. They grinned._

When she sipped her drink, it scalded her tongue a little, throwing her back into reality and banishing the daydream, making it flutter away, and though she tried to hold on, remembering the feel of his hand in hers, that just made it speed away faster. Sighing, she sat on the sofa she had pulled towards the window a few nights ago, and curled up, the cooling mug supplying her with heat.

And while the others slept, and a universe away the Doctor wept, Rose watched the stars.


	3. Chapter 2

**Comments** - Here it is, sorry for the wait sheepish I just forgot how little I'd posted...  
**Comments 2** - Thanks for pointing out that incredibly daft typo is sheepish And there was I thinking I'd caught everything... I need to find meself a beta. Thanks though to New Who Review and Runescribe, and also to my wonderful reviewers. Love you all!

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**Chapter 2**

Mickey dressed quickly, hoping to get down to breakfast before Jackie and Pete and avoiding another of their 'sessions'. Every morning it was the same - either an argument about something completely pointless, or a make-out session, probably following on from the argument. In the mornings, they never even argued about anything important, like the ghost-like Rose that wandered the house, but he was at least glad that they never argued in front of her. He couldn't say entirely that he understood how Rose felt, but he knew better than anyone, except perhaps the Doctor himself, and that made him feel protective of her.

He tried - no one could say that he didn't try. Now that all the Cybermen had fallen into the Void (one of the 'Things Not To Mention Around Rose'), his job as temporary soldier had been rendered obsolete. So, instead, he worked with Pete in trying to bring the world back to normal, (or as normal as it got). Luckily though, his job in the government (probably due to his high status with working with **the** Pete Tyler and helping to destroy the Cybermen) had quite a lot of free time, and he spent the majority of it with Rose. Rose, he felt, was his responsibility. Not, as he knew Jackie thought, because he'd once been her boyfriend, but because he understood. He'd travelled with her and the Doctor, and he'd seen the way they interacted, the way they looked at each other. He'd been sullen, even sulky about it, but he'd seen it nonetheless, and that left him in the unenviable position of being Rose's only confidante. Oh, she talked to her parents (though Pete had taken some talking to about it), but he knew that when she turned to him, it was about the Doctor.

It made him sad - of course it did. All this time he had had a lot of love for Rose, though he had known in his heart perhaps that the first time she had left, her hair flying as she ran to a man in a leather jacket, he had known then though he hadn't admitted it, that he had lost her. Still, that didn't change how he felt, so he looked after her as he always had, and always would.

When he entered the kitchen, flicking the switch with his hand, he caught the scent of cocoa, spotting the pot sitting beside the kettle. Without knowing how he knew it, he knew that it was Rose who'd come down for cocoa, and the thought pulled at his heart. So she still wasn't sleeping. He shouldn't be surprised really - he had difficulty at times, his nights chased by men in metal and the screams of the dead. And Rose, well he doubted that she was getting to sleep to have the nightmares to begin with.

He quickly made himself a cup of coffee, replacing the two pots back in the cupboard. He didn't feel particularly hungry, but a coffee would set him up for a few hours, and that gave him some time with Rose who would probably skip breakfast as she usually did.

He entered the library, and, sure enough that was where Rose was, curled up on the couch in front of the window. The sunrise was beautiful, and he fooled himself for a second that that was why she was here. Rose was the sort of person who would wake up early to see the sunrise.

The sort of person who would run off with a stranger to see the universe.

But she was asleep, a small frown on her face that told him that it probably wasn't a pleasant dream. And if she was asleep, then she hadn't risen to see the sun - she had risen because she couldn't sleep. So he stopped himself from waking her, and instead settled himself on the arm of the sofa, sipping at his coffee. Then he noticed the mug, prising it gently from her hand to set it down on a side table. And he watched her sleep.

* * *

The first thing she saw when she woke was Mickey, sitting on the opposite side of the sofa, holding an empty mug in one hand as he looked out the window. When she stirred, he glanced across and smiled.

"Morning."

"Morning," Rose replied, sitting up and stretching. Glancing at her surroundings quickly, she realised she was on the sofa in the library. She must've got up in the night and fallen asleep here again.

"Couldn't sleep?"

She shook her head, stifling a yawn. Even though she'd just been asleep, she felt exhausted; a sort of dry, ingrained weariness that settled into her bones like an illness. She stretched, trying to work some energy into her limbs.

"What time is it?"

Mickey looked at his watch. "About half past eight."

"Shouldn't you be heading off to work soon?" she asked, trying to remember his schedule.

"Nah, Joe gave me the day off. There's a load of paperwork that we've just done that needs to be passed through about fifty other people, and we're kinda kickin' our heels until we get it back."

"Mmm." Rose glanced down at her pyjamas, then back to the creeping sun outside that was spreading startlingly strong light into the room already. "I'm gonna go and get dressed."

"Sure," Mickey replied, watching her go. Then, taking the two mugs he went back into the kitchen to get himself some toast.

* * *

When Rose returned, clad in jeans, t-shirt and an overly large jumper, Mickey turned to her, grinning.

"Hey girl. What say you I take you out? We can do some shopping, I'll take you out to lunch..."

"Sure," Rose replied, trying to inject enthusiasm into her tone. She knew Mickey was trying and she really appreciated it. It wasn't his fault that she felt like crawling into a ball and staying like that forever. "I'll grab a jacket."

"Already done," he returned, tossing her a jacket she had borrowed from some wardrobe somewhere. It was nothing like the clothing she had used to wear, but most of what she wore these days was the same. Gone were the skin-tight denim and bright colours, and instead she curled up into a large jumper and a warm jacket, as if she were going slowly cold inside and trying to stay warm.

She followed Mickey out, even taking some money from her mum, who watched them go without bothering to hide the hope in her eyes. Hoping the two of them would have fun, that the outing could banish some of the depression that had settled into her lively daughter.

He even had transport - Mickey's time in this alternate reality had been well spent. Being a mechanic, he had rescued an old Beetle and done it up almost lovingly. After all, the van that he and Jake had taken around the world to combat the Cybermen was all very well, but with the blast holes, scorch marks and misuse, it had pretty much died on the way back from Paris. The Beetle was just perfect for running them into town, and once they had parked, the two friends walked the familiar streets into the centre of London.

True to his word, Mickey did take her shopping, trying his hardest to get her to laugh with him at some of the fashions, whilst persuading her enthusiastically about a few items of clothing. And Rose did smile, if a little weakly. Though she felt a pang as she watched him walk around, acting the fool for her, and even pretending to like shopping when all the time they had been going out he had detested it. The walk, the confidence, the fooling reminded her of Jack, who'd done something similar when the Doctor had dropped them off for some fun, not long after the adventure in Cardiff. Back then, the Time Agent had been trying to take her mind of Mickey, and to see him do the same just reminded her of the past.

She forced that back though. After all, Jack was in the other universe, as was the Doctor, and the less she thought about them the better. Steeling herself, she followed Mickey down the aisle, protesting with a smile as he brought her another t-shirt and insisted she bought it. Mickey, sweet Mickey with all his tact, took her to a noodle bar for lunch, so there was no chance of ordering chips (oh the memories that simple act would bring back). She even managed to enjoy herself a little, eating the food Mickey had bought for her - her favourite. They didn't linger long over the meal though, and after that they headed back, Mickey carrying the bags and protesting when she said she'd take a few. He'd seen how easily she had got tired, and bundled her into the car before she could protest his overbearing care any more.

Rose nearly fell asleep in the car on the short journey back, but when Mickey looked indecisive, clearly wondering whether to take them around the block a few times, she stopped him and in no short terms to take them back.

"I'm tired, but I'm not a baby," she said firmly, and, suitably cowed, he complied, pulling into the drive. He didn't even protest as she took the bags herself, trying not to set off the shortened fuse she was running on at the moment.

"Thanks," she said with a small smile at the bottom of the stairs, reaching in to peck him on the cheek.

"Any time babe," he replied with his own smile. "You take those upstairs and get some rest."

"What did I do to deserve you?" Rose asked lightly, before hauling the bags upstairs.

"What did we do to deserve **you**?" he asked quietly, watching her go before turning back to the rest of the house. With any luck, Rose would be able to get some rest for a few hours, which left him alone with nothing to do. Grabbing a pair of overalls from the cloakroom, he headed out to tinker with his prize Beetle.

* * *

Dumping the bags on her bed, Rose sighed as she turned to the bathroom. Running some water, she reached in and splashed it across her face. She felt exhausted, and on the way back in the car she had even felt a little sick, even though she had never been travel sick in her life. Now, as she looked at her image in the mirror, that feeling increased, her stomach feeling like it was being tightened in the grip of some unmerciful god. Biting back the nausea, Rose drained the water, face dripping, and grabbed a towel, walking slowly back into her bedroom. It had probably been the meal Mickey had treated her to, she surmised. She hadn't eaten that much in ages, not since…

Yes. Well. She pulled her jumper over her head, then the t-shirt and undressed, throwing the still packed bags to the floor messily with her clothes as she changed into her pyjamas. Maybe some rest would help her stomach and make her feel more rested. If she could get some, that was.

Crawling into bed, she curled up beneath the quilt, laying her head against the soft pillow and staring into space. Then, closing her eyes, she tried to clear her mind, and, eventually, fell asleep.


	4. Chapter 3

Is anyone still reading these/wanting to read these? Let alone one that is rather similar to about five thousand others... shrugs I'll put it up anyway. :D  
I apologise in advance for the rather naff metaphors. I came up with it on the spur of the moment and then the dialogue flowed so well I couldn't change it.

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**Chapter 3**

_Light. _

_Golden light – just like the dreams she'd had back home, back in the TARDIS. She remembered vaguely dreams of light and singing. Tendrils of gold span around her and in her and intertwining with her thoughts. She settled back with a sigh into the dream-world, knowing the light would be peaceful as always, to hold her in a cocoon of rest that would soothe her body._

_But it didn't come. The warmth that was around her wasn't welcoming – it was worried. Desperate, the tendrils were holding her arms and her legs, encircling round her and pulling her somewhere. She couldn't fight it – wasn't sure if she wanted to – but something was holding her back, resisting the light._

_Rose struggled, not sure if she was fleeing the light or the cold vice that was trying to pull her down, back, resisting her movement. She had to be free, had to get out –_

With a sudden start, she woke, her body entangled in the bedclothes where she had struggled. Her skin was sticky, coated in a film of sweat, but her heart felt cold. She panted for a moment or two, trying to calm her beating heart, when her stomach revolted, and she staggered out of bed, dashing for the toilet. Kneeling in front of the porcelain bowl, her legs shaky and weak, she vomited. Her stomach felt like it was trying to force its way up her throat. Her head was swimming, but she clutched the bowl tighter as she felt her stomach rebel again, desperately trying to pull her hair out of the way with one hand.

She must've made quite a bit of noise in her hurry, as the next minute Mickey burst in, spotted her in the bathroom and came to kneel beside her, letting her lean against him as she tried vainly to control her stomach. Rose felt his familiar, comforting hands stroke her hair away, pulling it back from her face and behind her head as he rubbed her arm soothingly.

When she had finally emptied her stomach completely, she retched for a few moments, her body failing to realise this, before falling back onto Mickey. She felt as weak as a kitten, the taste of bile in her mouth almost making her retch again, but she forced herself to breathe calmly. After a few minutes, making sure she was done and letting her lean against the wall instead, Mickey stood, flushing the toilet and getting her a glass of water from the tap, running it cold before passing down the glass. Smiling weakly in thanks, Rose swilled the taste out of her mouth and then sipped at the rest, feeling grateful for the cool wall behind her.

* * *

Getting up from where he was watching the news, coffee in hand and still dressed from the day in the office, Pete sighed irritably as the doorbell rang loudly. Putting the half-empty mug on a nearby table, he pulled open the door and frowned at the prospective visitor. 

"Hello, can I come in?"

"Who're you?" he asked, confused and still more than a little irritated. "If you're selling something, we're not interested…"

"Pete?" Jackie called from another room, her voice echoing magnificently around the entrance hall. "Pete, where are you? What do you think-" Carrying a magazine loosely in one hand, she strolled across to him, only then noticing the man stood outside their door. She stopped dead in the middle of the hall, her face paling and her eyes wide. "Oh my god it's you."

"Do I know you?" the man asked with a frown, looking past Pete at Jackie. The poor man glanced between the stranger and his wife, startled by her reaction.

"You're dead…" Jackie whispered, just staring at him.

"Will someone explain what's going on?" Pete demanded, turning first to his shocked wife, and then to the man.

"Well I don't know about anything that's going on," the man in the leather jacket said, flashing him a bright and oddly familiar grin. "I'm the Doctor – pleased to meet you."

* * *

Mickey looked up at the sound of the doorbell, but shrugged when Rose looked at him. She hadn't heard about any visitors – they didn't have many at all as it was. Ignoring it, she rested against the wall, closing her eyes against the sunlight that shafted in through the bathroom window. It wouldn't affect her – no one ever came to see her, she didn't even exist in this reality. But if she thought about that too much she would become melancholy, so she opened her eyes again. 

"Feeling better?" Mickey asked gently, checking her temperature with the back of his hand.

"A bit," she replied, enjoying the cool feel of Mickey's hand against her overheated skin. She still felt sweaty and horrible from the nightmare, and her stomach was still swimming, though it was now more of a breaststroke than full-on butterfly.

"Come on, lets get you back into bed," he commented, taking her arm and lifting her up slowly. Leaning on him gratefully, they moved timidly out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. All of a sudden, just as Rose was moving shakily to the bed, footsteps sounded from outside the door and it burst open. For a second, everything was still as Mickey and Rose both stared at the newcomer, their faces white and incredulous. Then, without a sound, Rose fell onto the bed in a dead faint.

"Hmmm, I do seem to be having an effect on people," the Doctor commented. Jackie and Pete were following him now, obviously not as fast as the Timelord, and when Jackie saw her daughter, she gave a small gasp and dashed forwards.

"It's alright," Mickey reassured her, shifting Rose into a more comfortable position. "She just fainted. She's feeling ill, and having that idiot there isn't going to help any." Some small part of him got a sense of satisfaction in calling the Doctor 'idiot' as he jerked his thumb in his direction. Somehow, after all that time of hearing the same, or practically the same man call him the same, it felt good to be on the other end.

"Yeah, you!" Her old anger returned, Jackie turned on the Doctor, ninth edition. "Who do you think you are, burstin' into my daughter's room like that, after all she's been through?"

The Doctor ignored her, pushing Mickey aside as he got out his sonic screwdriver and ran it swiftly over Rose's face, frowning.

"What on Earth?" he muttered, fiddling with the settings and trying again. The results didn't seem to change, as his frown didn't budge. Pocketing the device, he leant forward and prised back one of her eyelids. Mickey was the only one close enough to see besides the Timelord, and he just about managed to hold in his gasp of surprise at the sight – brown irises, sparkling with gold.

Letting it fall back, the Doctor stood back, his expression serious. "You", he pointed at Jackie, "stay with her and tell me when she wakes up. You," he turned to Pete, "I don't care what you do – make yourself another cup of coffee or something. And you," he pointed at Mickey. "You're coming with me. I want to know everything – from the very beginning."

* * *

"From the beginning, eh?" Mickey replied later, when they had left the confines of Rose's bedroom and escaped outside. The Doctor – oddly familiar and yet so disturbing in this form – was leaning against the patio doors, while Mickey sat on the low wall facing him. 

"Yup," the Doctor replied, his blue eyes shadowed with vague mistrust but a willingness to listen.

"Well, I guess the beginning was when you turned up," he began, remembering Rose telling him all about the time he had blown up her job. "You were running around saving the world from some sort of plastic people, Aurors or something-"

"Autons," the Timelord supplied, his expression intent.

"Yeah, them. Anyway, you blew up where Rose," he paused, "that's the girl back there who fainted – you blew up where she worked and saved her life…"

With a few interruptions for verification or more detail, Mickey told him everything he could remember from his own adventures and those he'd heard from Rose. He had to pause and think after telling him about Cardiff though. Rose didn't talk much about between then and returning at Christmas, and they didn't push her much, beyond wanting explanations about the Doctor's new face. Even then she hadn't been able to give them much information, and at the time they'd been too busy, Rose had been too full of emotion to talk about it.

Still, he sketched out the information as best as he could, explaining about the Daleks and opening the TARDIS with a giant truck. He could've sworn though that as he described it, the Doctor's jaw twitched, probably due to the treatment of his beloved ship, but he didn't interrupt. His eyes seemed to mask his emotions, something that Mickey had forgotten since meeting his easier, friendlier regeneration. He had forgotten how much the Doctor had changed, and not just since becoming a big-mouthed 'pretty boy', but since he had been travelling with Rose. Had Rose really changed him all this much? Mickey knew that she was special – he had always been afraid that Rose would leave him to go off with the first better guy that came along (and look how **that** turned out). But this man was a Timelord, and now that he understood what that meant, it mystified him that one girl, even if it was Rose, could do so much.

When he had finished, the Doctor didn't speak for a long moment, but stood and walked away a little, turning his back to Mickey and facing across the grounds. After a few sparse questions, confirming the information he had already heard, the Doctor stared into the distance, thinking. Even though he recognised the expression as being rather hostile, Mickey couldn't help but ask.

"Is she gonna be alright?"

The Doctor didn't turn as he replied. "I don't know." He sighed, turning back and favouring Mickey with his 'explaining-things face'. He had to resist a smile – he recognised that face – as the Timelord gestured.

"From what you told me, it seems as if she was perfectly fine, until she got here. You've been in this reality, what, a week? Two?" Mickey nodded. "Of course, if she looked into the Heart of the TARDIS, then anything could've happened. Even I don't know what happens if you do that. You said she took the vortex into herself?" the Doctor's voice was incredulous.

"Yeah, that's what the Doctor told me," Mickey replied. "He said that Rose didn't know, something to do with the way he transferred it back, but he wanted someone to know in case anything happened." He forced down the remembered feelings of worry, fear, responsibility when the Doctor, their Doctor, had told him, ordering him not to tell her.

"Sounds like me," the Doctor approved. "Telling her would probably have caused more trouble than not." He thought for a moment, but then, unable to restrain himself anymore, burst out, throwing his hands to the sky. "But that's not even possible! Taking the vortex into yourself, it's like saying that you can take the entire universe into your head – it's impossible! And the effect…"

Mickey watched him walk, wondering if he was pacing to help him think, or to work off some of that irrepressible energy he kept cooped up. Then, as he watched, he suddenly realised how bizarre this situation was – sitting in a parallel universe, talking to a parallel Doctor…

"What are you doin' here then?" he asked suddenly, shifting position on his wall. "You're not one to turn up for no reason, I know that."

"Time ripples," the Doctor replied absently, still frowning in thought. "The TARDIS picked up an anomaly nearby, something wrong with the vortex…" He trailed off, and then looked up at Mickey for a long moment. "I am such an idiot."

"I won't disagree with you there," Mickey replied, smiling slightly.

"No, I really **am** an idiot!" The Doctor was becoming animated again – a sure sign in any incarnation that he had had an Idea. "It all fits, can't you see –" he paused, throwing out the question randomly. "What's your name again?"

"Mickey," he replied automatically.

"Can't you see, Mickey?" the Doctor continued flawlessly, "It all fits! The distortion, Rose, the vortex – it all fits!" He was grinning in exultation, jumping up into the air.

"What fits?"

"Everything!" He celebrated for a moment or two more, then, noticing Mickey's confused expression, stopped, and went back into 'explaining mode'.

"Rose took the vortex into her, right? The entirety of the time-space vortex, all packed inside her head. It's gonna burn her up, kill her even, so I, I mean, _your_ Doctor gets it out, returns it back to the TARDIS." He paused for a moment, grinning. "Hmm… I do like a bit of self-sacrifice. Anyway, vortex in head, boom, vortex out of head. BUT," he said quickly, wagging his finger, "it doesn't work like that. You can't just put it in and take it out like that. It's like if you put water in a bucket. What happens? You get water left behind."

"So there's still a bit of the vortex in her?" Mickey asked, aghast.

"Give the guy a medal!" the Doctor beamed. "Right, so there's this tiny piece of the vortex left in her, probably not doing much harm. It just sits there, probably gives her a slightly better than human constitution, probably noticeable to some special people. Other than that, it's dormant – just a piece of the universe in her head.

"Then what happens? All of a sudden, BAM, you're in a different reality. But you see, you still have this part of the vortex in her head, a piece of that universe. And that's what's causing the problem."

"But, wait," Mickey interrupted. "This isn't the first time we've been here – me, Rose and the Doctor came to this universe before, we defeated the Cybermen! Surely if this piece of vortex was going to act up or whatever, it'd do it then?"

The Doctor frowned, the shot out a question. "How long were you here?"

Mickey thought hard. "A day? Something like that?"

"A day's not long enough," the Timelord replied with certainty. "It takes time for this sort of thing to get noticed. It's like…" he cast around for a metaphor. "It's like that bucket of water we had earlier. Water in, water out, but some gets left behind. Now, imagine putting a piece of paper into the bucket, imagine that's the universe – my universe. It picks up the water, but it takes time for it to soak up all the tiny droplets – that's you, by the way. Now, one or two droplets won't get noticed – it's still a relatively dry piece of paper. But Rose isn't just a droplet, she's a glassful of water that's been dropped in, because she contains all the information and power from that piece of vortex. _Now_ the paper is soaked, probably sagging in the middle."

"So why's this affecting Rose?"

"She's that cup of water. She's the one that's making the paper, the universe, bend. And the universe isn't this sort of elastic thing, it's just like the paper. The universe is trying to stop getting wet, trying to keep the way it was before, but the water's still there, soaking through. And what happens when you pull a very wet piece of paper?" The Doctor's expression was serious as he asked the question. Mickey shrugged, unable to even ask.

"The paper breaks."


	5. Chapter 4

_Let it not be said that I do not value my own life :D Sorry for the delay._

**Chapter 4**

Rose woke suddenly with absolutely no memory of where she was. After a few minutes she ascertained that she was in her bedroom, in her bed in fact, but she lay on top of the covers, so she hadn't just been asleep. Her mouth felt dry and acidic – had she been sick? She felt a little odd as it was; her head hurt and her eyes felt really tired, though she was in her pyjamas so she must've been asleep quite recently. Added to that the strange prickling in her heart…

Wait, that wasn't her. Frowning, she sat up and pulled at the chain around her neck, tugging the TARDIS key from its usual position to look at it. Now she was really awake – the metal was tingling underneath her fingers, not warm like it had been before when the Doctor had been trying to find her, but tingling, like it was vibrating in her hand.

"What the-?"

Staring at the key as if it would give her some flash of intuition, she searched her memory desperately, but everything was a bit fuzzy, and petered off. She had got up, feeling awful, and then in the bathroom, Mickey had been there…

Dropping the key, she pulled herself out of bed and dressed hurriedly, grabbing some shoes and pulling them on. She couldn't remember anything after that, but all her senses were screaming at her, not to mention the odd feeling where alien metal touched her skin.

Creeping out of her room, Rose hurried down the stairs, a little puzzled. There was no-one around at all – what had happened? Was there something wrong, not just with her, but everyone else?

A quick, cursory glance in all the main rooms told her nothing, except that she was quite alone. She stopped in the large entrance hall, glancing at the door, wondering if she should try outside. She pulled out the key again, wondering if the humming meant something was wrong. The Doctor said the TARDIS was telepathic and got in your head, so it kind of made sense that the key wasn't entirely normal. Was it picking up alien signals or time rifts, or was she just finally going round the bend? The thought chilled her, but it could happen. After all, who had a key that hummed in your hand, and wait a moment, did it feel cold?

She walked slowly away from the door and towards the dining room, keeping the small metal piece held lightly in one hand. She stopped at a few metres, realising with some surprise that it had dimmed and all but stopped, the metal reacting to her body warmth and heating up again.

Really confused now, she moved back towards the door quickly and pulled it open, dropping the chain with a gasp. Gingerly, she touched the edges, feeling her fingers burn with cold.

Deciding that if she was going mad she might as well carry on, she walked out, pulling the door shut behind her gently. It took a while for her to figure out how to follow its strange trail, and quite a few false starts, even losing it completely as she took a wildly wrong turn.

It was leading her, if you could say that, away from the house and near the main drive. Near, she remembered with a start, she and the Doctor had stopped, surrendering to armies of Cybermen. The memory hit her hard and fast, though she must have travelled down here a thousand times since without even thinking about it. Rose gave the key still in her hand a funny look, then decided that if she had a telepathic key there was nothing she could do about it. She made her way quickly across the lawn, heading for the band of trees that gave the large house its privacy. There must be something hiding there.

A sense of urgency was gripping her now, and she moved on quickly, desperate to find the end. Her heart was beating quicker. She couldn't make any sense of it, but she felt expectant, like just round the corner or behind that tree, _something_ was waiting for her. Though she tried desperately to stop herself, wondering where this feeling had come from, she couldn't. Something was waiting. She _had_ to find out, even if it was bad (though all her senses were reassuring her).

The key was almost singing in her hand, bristling with – _happiness? Relief?_ – that tingling feeling. She felt sure that if it reacted any more violently it would jump out of her hand.

It was close – very close.

She brushed her way past a large poplar, ignoring it when it snagged on her jumper and tore the material a little. Rose tried to get her own bearings on where she was, and concluded that she must be near the small rose garden – in fact, there should be a path just to her left-

She turned, spotting something in the trees. There was the path, but something was there.

Her heart stopped even as she dashed forwards, the brown and green trees making way for one very large blue box.

The TARDIS.

Almost fainting right then and there, she walked forwards shakily, ignoring the trees and undergrowth as she pushed her way around to the front.

It was definitely the TARDIS. There weren't many big, blue 1960's police telephone boxes in the world, and she knew that no-one in her family would be stupid enough to play a prank like this. Added to that was the way the key was jumping in her hand like a metal ice-cube, and the familiarity of the worn, painted wood beneath her fingertips as she reached out and brushed the surface. Placing her hand firmly on one of the panels, she tried to calm her heart and work methodically. Well it wasn't an illusion or hallucination, it felt real enough.

Slowly, as if in a dream, she reached for the handle and gave it an experimental tug.

Locked.

With a small sad grin to herself as she remembered him lecturing her about TARDIS-security and never leaving it unlocked 'for cunning little aliens to get their thieving hands on', she pulled the key from round her neck and slotted it into the keyhole. She turned it, but before she had turned it 45 degrees, it stuck hard and wouldn't go any further.

Trying to hide her disappointment, she tried again, but before she could, a voice behind her, serious and bland and calm, interrupted.

"I don't think that's gonna work."

Unable to believe it, she turned swiftly, eyes wide.

The Doctor was leaning casually against a tree, watching her carefully. But this wasn't her Doctor, she realised immediately, her stomach doing flip flops. Well, it was and it wasn't. Oh hell…

"Why not?" she asked to cover her stare.

"It's not made for my TARDIS," he replied with a shrug. "Are you alright? Not going to faint again or anything?"

She flushed as her memory returned in full force at this tangible evidence in front of her. He took that as a 'yes'.

"Good! So, you must be Rose Tyler." He grinned, a grin that broke her heart. "I don't think we've been formally introduced – or at least, I haven't. As I hear, you know all about me."

"Yeah," Rose replied in a small voice. She felt sick again, her chest constricting painfully. She looked away, only to find him step forwards and take her hand.

"Look," he said quietly, fixing her gaze with his. "I know this is pretty odd – trust me, even I'm finding this hard to believe. But judging from what Mickey told me, you were my counterpart's companion, right?"

"Well, sort of," she replied awkwardly. "We were friends. Best friends."

He grinned again, all sympathy and kindness and that way of knowing exactly what you were feeling before you did.

"Well in any universe, from what I've heard, I'm damned lucky to have you as a friend, Rose Tyler. Come on, let's get back to the house."

Rose nodded, numb, her mind trying to come to terms with what was happening. It took her a good five minutes to sort herself out and turn to him.

"Wait – I know you. You don't ever turn up for no apparent reason. Why are you even here?"

The expression he shot her in return was unreadable. "I was hoping you could tell me. Fortunately, I think Mickey managed to fill me in."

For some reason, that made her smile sadly. When he asked, she just shrugged him off, muttering something about someone called Rickey being an idiot. After that, he refused to say anything more before they returned to the house, though he kept shooting her glances out of the corner of his eyes. Mysterious glances that she couldn't figure out half the emotions they contained, but what she saw was enough to make her worried.

Mickey's expression when they met up in the large living room worried her more – Mickey had never been able to hide his emotions very well. She wondered if Jake was around somewhere, because she had the feeling that whatever news she was going to receive wouldn't be good, and there was a good chance that Mickey would need him.

That was something none of them had seen coming, though it hadn't upset anyone particularly (except Jackie, who had hoped that she and Mickey would get together again and bless them with grandchildren). But from the way Jake and Mickey looked at each other, even if neither of them had said anything, no one had had any desire to interfere. Rose was glad that he had someone; glad she wasn't shunted back to being his girlfriend when neither of them wanted it. He had found someone, Jackie had Pete, and she just clutched her memories tightly to her, imprinting the feel of his hand in hers, the look in his eyes.

Too late, caught in her musings, she flushed as the Doctor glanced at her, his eyes showing that he had heard at least half of what she had just thought but sympathetic instead of flustered and he had that deep-down sadness Rose had not seen as much since he regenerated.

"You might want to sit down," he said gently, steering her to a chair. "This could be a bit of a shock…"


	6. Chapter 5

**Comments from the author** - Would you believe this is at the behest of my mother? Oh, and far too many other people that are vastly disappointed in me; DanielleP, hannah, timano, etc.Very very sorry, but I've had loads of work, Doctor Who-related things to due (like the CIN Charity Concert tomorrow that I'm going to!), plus being nastily ill. Don't worry, I'm working very hard to get an end to this, and after it's over (all other things in mind though) I'm hoping to get really cracking and posting with the next in the Species series for those interested.  
Thanks reviewers, it's fantastic hearing your comments and knowing you're enjoying it.  
Here's looking at you, Mum.**

* * *

**

Chapter 5

There was a long silence when he finished. Everyone was looking at her, she could feel their gazes without even needing to look up, and she closed her eyes to try to get away from them. She had to stay calm, think straight. She had to hold it together, she had to take a deep breath.

She did. It didn't help.

Rose bit her lip, trying to stop her imagination from spiralling out of control, the fear only just contained beneath her clenched fingers. She had to be calm. She had to think straight. She had to hold it together. She had to-

Oh _God_.

Ignoring their surprise, she stood suddenly, trying to force her stomach back down her throat as she fled, straight out the door, through the hall, outside. Walking quickly, her legs felt jittery, she wanted to run but that at least she stopped herself from doing.

Dimly, she realised that they weren't following, and she was glad. She didn't want to see their faces, see their pity, have to face them. She couldn't deny what they were saying, but if she saw their eyes, the pain there would make it all too true.

Her fast walking took her out of immediate sight quite quickly, but with a touch of sense, she stuck close to the house, making for the bench overlooking the rose garden instead of fleeing, with her legs carrying her away to disappear into the open countryside.

In her head, her thoughts were frozen except for the running train of continuous memories, his voice explaining, as gently as possible…

Rose choked, not quite a sob, not quite a laugh as she dropped to the bench, burying her face in her hands. It was too much to take in. It _couldn't_ be true…

But it was.

She stopped all of a sudden, mid-unsteady breath. Her hands were shaking, she stared at them as if they weren't hers, as if their slow movements through the air weren't powered by her mind.

Gold lights.

Rose recognised the warm, prickly feeling in her stomach, the hollow, open sensation in her heart, but the incandescence of her own skin both fascinated and terrified her. This had only happened in dreams before; the tracing of tiny lights, like fireflies underneath her skin, underneath the Doctor's skin – both of them in her nightmares. She felt like she was going to be sick, but it wasn't just the nausea that her condition, disease, whatever it was, caused, but the sudden dropping of realisation.

It was true. She was dying. And she was going to take the entire universe with her.

Instead of the panic (now fading away to scream at the back of her mind), she now felt chillingly calm. It was as if she had been waiting for this moment for her entire life, as if all her years as Rose Tyler the nobody and then Rose Tyler, companion of the Doctor and then the three days of Rose Tyler, Saviour of the Earth had prepared her for this.

To die.

"Somehow I doubt that," the Doctor said easily. Rose jumped, looking up quickly to see him standing a few feet away from her, hands shoved in his pockets. His blue-eyed gaze disorientated her for a moment as it always seemed to do here, with this almost stranger.

"You said it yourself," she pointed out. "I have vortex in me," she resisted the urge to shudder, "and it doesn't like being in this universe and it's trying to drag me back into the other. My Doctor said there was no way we could travel between universes because the Timelords are dead, so how am I supposed to survive then?"

His lips had twitched at the personal pronoun, but his face remained solidly serious as he moved forwards, not invading her space but close enough to touch. He paused for a long moment, as if thinking, then sighed, turning his face away, apparently finding the view more interesting than the woman in front of him.

"I think you might be able to go back," he said quietly.

Her heart leapt.

"What? But that's-"

"Impossible?" the Doctor grinned, a shade of his usual. "I know. But then I do have a knack for it, if I say so myself. Anyway, the way I see it, that universe is trying to pull you back because of the vortex that's in you, and this universe is trying to push you out. So, if my basic physics is still correct, all we have to do is give you a bit of help and with any luck, you should zip back to your own universe."

"You really think it would work?" Rose asked, half-curious, half-hopeful.

"Yes," he replied simply in that perfectly honest way he did. She was convinced. "But," he added, "you wouldn't be able to return. You'd have to leave all this," he gestured, "your family behind – I can't send them with you. And you can't come back, or the stress on the two dimensions would be too much."

"But I'd be saving the universe," she replied with a lop-sided grin.

"True," he agreed, grudgingly. "But you can't make this decision lightly."

Rose shook her head, standing from the bench and brushing her legs off perfunctorily, turning her nervousness into neatness.

"It's already been made," she told him simply. "I made it a long time ago, and I'm not going to change my mind now. The Doctor needs someone by his side and that person is going to be me. Besides, the fate of the universe? Saving it is practically my job by now."

His icy blue gaze searched her face intently for a moment, then he nodded slightly. He wasn't sure he fully understood the strangely inhuman Rose Tyler with her connection to the vortex (which was frankly impossible), and he didn't even think about prying into her thoughts about his other self after what she had broadcasted earlier. But something in her made him trust her.

Deep inside her subconscious, something was caged, shifting impatiently, silencing the final vestiges of her panic.

_I am the Bad Wolf. I make myself, and I will be free.

* * *

_

"I don't believe this," Jackie cried, fighting off her husband. She was glaring at Mickey with daggers, not even noticing the way Jake was hovering uncertainly in the background. "You're not siding with him!"

"Jackie," Pete tried pleadingly, trying to stop his wife from attacking his employee and friend. "Jackie, just listen to him-"

"Oh get off of me!" she screeched, pushing him away and standing in front of Mickey, hands flying to her hips.

"Were you not listening to a word he said?" he replied heatedly. "Rose is dying!"

Jackie flinched, but held her ground.

"And it's his bloody fault that's happening, isn't it?" Tears were starting in her eyes, but her anger buoyed her. "Him and his bloody machine, taking my Rose off and risking her life, and what about me?"

"What about Rose?" Mickey snapped back. "I know you've seen it, I've seen it – everyone saw it! She's different, she's better since she met him. We've all changed, but she changed for the better, she risked her life for others, for the world, for everything and all you can think about is yourself!"

Jackie stopped, taken aback at his ferocity, but he ploughed on, tears springing to his eyes as well.

"When she came back the first time I was just as upset as you because I knew, I could see she would never come back to me after what she'd seen. But you know, that short time I travelled with them showed me _why_. The Doctor is more than you can ever imagine and the things he does… but Rose helps him and he helps her and what they have is stronger than anything I've ever seen." He was going slightly off the point, but he'd gathered up too much steam and the feelings he'd pent up were returning.

"The Doctor does more than you could ever imagine for everyone in the _entire universe_. Without him, we'd be dead or never even born a hundred, a thousand times, and he does it because no one else will. And no one else can help him like Rose, so _don't you dare_. Just- don't."

There was a long pause as the two stared at each other, one flushed with anger and breathing heavily, the other white and scared.

"But _Rose_…"

"She's not our Rose any more," he said firmly, wearily. "She's her own person, and she's amazing for it. And if she needs to go back to be safe then I for one am gonna give her up."

Jackie raised a trembling hand to her mouth, closed her eyes against the tears and dashed out, the soft sound of sobbing following her.

The remaining three stood in silence, but eventually Jake moved forwards. He didn't speak, just rested his hand gently on the other's arm, offering silent support and comfort. After another minute or two, blinking back his own tears, Pete walked out to find his wife, leaving the other two alone.

"Mickey…" Jake started, stepping forwards to rest his hand gently on his arm. Mickey tensed, still trying to get his turbulent emotions under control, before relaxing and turning to his boyfriend.

"I'm sorry," the blond said simply, his eyes showing that he still didn't understand fully, but also that he didn't need to. In reply, Mickey tugged his lips into a small smile, and they embraced warmly.

"Me too," Mickey whispered, blinking back tears and closing his eyes.

* * *

When they got back to the house, the Doctor was surprised to find no-one around, until he came upon Pete, nursing a coffee in the kitchen. His eyes were slightly red and the look he gave Rose was enough to start tears in her eyes too, and it wasn't long before they were hugging tightly.

"Where's Mum?" Rose asked, muffled against Pete's chest, pulling her head up to look at him.

"She was a bit upset," he said quietly. "She went off into the library to calm down a bit."

"You mean she had a right rant at everyone and stormed off to the library to sob and clutch a pillow?" Rose corrected, her eyes moist but her grin wide.

"Something like that," Pete replied with a matching smile. "You know how she is."

"You can say that again," Rose rolled her eyes slightly at the Doctor, remembering with a sad jolt that this Doctor wasn't hers, hadn't been slapped in her living room for being a perverted molester (or so Jackie had assumed). Catching herself in time, her gaze flicked away as she tried to think of something else to say. "So, how is everyone taking it?"

"It'll take some getting used to," Pete said with an ironic smile. "I mean, I find out I have a daughter in another universe and she and her mother come to live with me after my Jackie dies," his voice still hitched at the memory "and then it turns out that she has to go back again, just as I've got used to the idea."

"Almost as weird as finding out you have a dad in another universe," Rose replied, giving him an extra squeeze, before stepping away to find herself a mug and some tea.

"Isn't it, I mean, if you go back, you won't have any family," he commented quietly, looking her in the eye. She didn't reply, but her expression showed him that she had thought about it and was resigned to her fate. Too, there was a sort of twinkle in her eye that he hadn't seen for a long time, since he had gone to the alternate universe and snatched her before the rip could pull her in. He had often wondered if he had been too late, if he had only rescued the body and not the soul of this beautiful girl who could've been his daughter.

But that twinkle – he could read what that meant in one simple word that summed up everything that had changed their lives so drastically, that had taken his Jackie and given him another, and a daughter. That word was 'Doctor'.

He was watching him again, he noticed suddenly, his eyes meeting those piercing blue. He wondered what the man, alien, whatever he was, was thinking behind those eyes that had seen so much and it was all there and if you looked too long –

Pete looked away and turned back to his drink, taking a large gulp of the cooling liquid.

"So, how are you going to do this?"

"I'm not sure," the Doctor frowned. "I think the TARDIS' link to this universe's vortex should be a strong enough link to Rose's universe – all the vortexes are linked, by the way," he added, "that's how you got through in the first place, but the walls between were closed when the Time Lords were destroyed to preserve the time-space continuum. But they are still linked, and if we could find a small chink through…"

"What about the one at Torchwood Tower?" Pete asked, but the Doctor was already shaking his head.

"No. That rift has already been stressed too much. Anything more and we could be facing just what you and your Doctor managed to prevent. I'll have to check the TARDIS databanks – there should be one that I can use."

"What about the one in Cardiff?" Rose piped up. The Doctor turned to her, frowning.

"Cardiff?"

"Capital of Wales?" Rose replied jokingly. "Home of leeks?"

"I don't like leeks, prefer celery," the Doctor muttered absently. "I didn't know there was a rift in Cardiff."

"Ah, yes," Rose realised. "Well there is, at least on my world. Time rift."

The Doctor was still frowning, but giving it considerable thought.

"It depends on whether or not it connects through space as well… but you say you've been there before?" Rose nodded. "That might help, if you have a link to the site."

"I've been there twice – first time stopping gas-monsters and then nearly destroying the whole of Earth just so some ruddy Slitheen could surf to freedom," she commented. His eyebrows rose, and she quickly summarised the events of Margaret and what Jack had always referred to as 'The Surfboard of Doom'.

"Brilliant!" the Doctor replied, grinning broadly. "You say the TARDIS was hooked up to charge power from the rift?"

"Yeah, through some extrapolator thing."

"Then it must be linked to the space continuum as well as time." She gave him a blank look, so he resisted the urge to roll his eyes – why did he have such dense companions? Though he must admit, he had not felt this alive in a long time – and carried on.

"The TARDIS runs on vortex energy. If you stopped there for refuelling, then this 'extrapolator' must be transferring the energy from the rift to the TARDIS, and in order for this to be compatible, the energy must be time-space vortex energy. Anything else would be like putting petrol in a diesel engine, but for a sentient time machine."

Rose winced, trying not to imagine it.

"So it'll work?"

"Should do, but there's nothing like proving a theory by doing it," the Doctor said, his tone a shade serious. "I don't know if it'll work, and once I start I probably won't be able to stop. Are you still OK with this?"

"I have no choice," Rose replied firmly. The Doctor grinned, and she spent a moment fixing the moment into her memory, her heart tugging strangely bittersweet though she had come to love her Doctor as himself a long time ago. "So when do we do this?"

"As soon as possible would be best I think. The two universes will be under quite a lot of stress, and the longer we delay the worse the damage. Plus too you will probably get more ill as time passes, and the 'journey' so to speak will be a lot safer if you're in one piece when I send you."

"But you can't leave yet!" Pete blurted, staring at Rose with something akin to horror. The Doctor's expression softened with sympathy, and he stepped forwards to place both hands on the other mans' shoulders.

"Rose is in danger while she stays here. I know you don't want to leave her, but there is no other way."

Pete swallowed, looking between the two of them for a long moment, then ducking his head and nodding. When he brought his head back up, his eyes were moist, but his voice was firm.

"I'll tell Jacks and Mickey."

The Doctor nodded, and Pete left. Rose watched him go, her teeth pulling at her lip as she tried to hold back her tears. She could feel the Time Lord's gaze on her, that expression of willingness to listen if you wanted to talk that always made her open herself to him.

"I won't ever see them again," she said quietly, bringing her hand up to her face, trying to keep her breathing steady. "I mean, when I told my Doctor that I'd stay with him I meant it and I knew I'd be leaving them behind, but this feels worse."

"I always find anticipation worse than action. Spur of the moment decision?" He snapped his fingers. "Easy. The knowledge of what is coming and that it's unstoppable? – terrifying."

Rose nodded, then laughed a little, glancing at him in embarrassment.

"This must be horrible for you – I know you hate domestics."

He half-grinned, putting his hands in his pockets. They stood in silence for a moment, before Rose coughed, wiping her now-dry eyes discreetly. She turned to him and fixed him with a serious look, her expression thoughtful.

"I know there are laws of time, but are there laws of parallel universes?"

"Why?"

"I know that you can't go into the past and tell them what's going to happen or to change it, but can you affect an alternate universe?"

His face was serious.

"No, there are no laws against it. I suppose it depends on what it is."

She stood thinking for a moment, then relaxed. He didn't ask, he had an inkling that this strange human was planning something, but he couldn't bring himself to care too much. It was odd, and made him feel uncomfortably vulnerable how he trusted this Rose Tyler, seemingly automatically, but he did, as if he knew her as well as she knew him. He ruefully realised that this must be how others viewed him sometimes, and wished he could go back and apologise to all his confused past companions.

"Come on then," Rose said suddenly, taking his arm confidently. "Let's go save the world again."

"Rose Tyler, defender of the Earth," he replied with a beaming grin, taking her arm in return. "Why not?"


	7. Chapter 6

**Comments** - Sorry bout the wait (_again, I know!_ _cries_). And I also shamefully apologise for the blatant technobabble in this chapter. And the slightly angstyness. And the fluffy moments.  
Oh you don't want to read this! Get on with it!  
And remember - none of this belongs to me. Someday however... dreams

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**Chapter 6**

The Doctor watched the uncomfortably domestic proceedings with resigned patience. He'd spent only a short time with the rather jumbled 'Tyler' family, but he could already see that this was obviously a repeated recurrence, and not just because Rose kept giving him pitying looks when she wasn't buried in someone's shoulder or having her photo taken in as many poses as possible.

It wasn't that he didn't do domestic, he mused, taking a sip of his cup of tea (he'd been pointed in the direction of the kettle and teabags as a distraction, he presumed). He'd 'done domestic', so to speak quite a few times – after all, the gaggle of companions that always seemed to be around in his past lives had had families, ties, relationships. In his distant past (which he didn't often think about any more – it was too painful in too many different ways), he'd had a wife, a child, a granddaughter, and you couldn't get more domestic than that.

It was just- he felt so out of place. Half-empathising, half-impatient and most definitely unwelcome from a certain matriarchal quarter, he hovered in the corner of the large living room, clutching a mug as though it would protect him from the others. As well, he was running over a constant stream of ideas, scenarios and possibilities, turning his mind to yet another problem as he had always done. He kept up a straight, benign face for the family (though he was sure he hadn't escaped either Mickey or Rose's attention), but in truth, he had no idea if it would work or was even possible. He hadn't been to any of the parallel dimensions in this life at least, and though he believed the explanation given by Mickey, he still could barely believe that a path was even possible after the War.

He was startled out of his reflection by a sudden flash and blinked, confused and incredulous into a camera-wielding Mickey, who gave him a lop-sided grin. The camera was one of those that gave automatic photos, and when he pulled it out of the top and showed it to the Doctor, sure enough he was there, musing over a cup of tea. He frowned at his ears – they really were unfortunate – then looked inquiringly back at the other man.

"For Rose," Mickey explained, pulling out a small sheaf of photos from a pocket, all from the same camera. He took them and had a quick flick through – one of all the family, Pete, Jackie, Jake and Mickey, and then his.

"She didn't want to forget us," Mickey explained, seeing the Doctor was still a little confused. "I thought she might like them, to remember us by 'cause she can't visit."

The Doctor nodded, passing them back and turning his attention back to his tea. Hmm… cooling slightly. He'd have to drink it quick – there was nothing worse than cold tea.

"Doctor?"

He looked up again. Mickey was closer, speaking in a quieter tone, his face serious. He was avoiding the Time Lord's gaze, but that could've been because he was looking at Rose, who was putting up with yet another tight embrace from her weeping mother.

"It, it will work, won't it?" Mickey's eyes flickered briefly over to him, then dropped to the floor. They were moist, and the Doctor felt his heart wring with pity. He summoned a smile and put his arm on the man's shoulder.

"I'll do my best," he said, not wanting to lie but edging away from the truth.

"Thanks." Mickey smiled back, his expression grateful and with a strange sense of confidence, as if with those words, an entire weight had been taken off of his shoulders, as long as the Doctor tried. The Time Lord swallowed, still smiling, and put his nearly-empty cup of tea down on a nearby coffee table.

"It'll be alright Mum, you'll see," he heard Rose say, slightly tearfully to her mother. She was standing tall, her hands resting on her mother's shoulders, a hint of a reassuring smile on her lips. "And you know I've got to go."

"I know," Jackie admitted grudgingly, looking into her daughter's face. In that instant as Jackie scanned her beautiful, strong daughter, she knew she would remember that image for the rest of her life – Rose's expression sad, her eyes full of tears but her face brighter than it had been for months, her soft blonde hair falling gently around her face. Pulling herself together, Jackie smiled at her, and pulled her into a last hug, trying to imprint every aspect of her only daughter into herself so that she never really had to let her go.

When she pulled back, she sniffed, wiping her eyes with a crumpled tissue. Then, turning to the Doctor, her eyes narrowed.

"Now you look after my daughter, you hear me?"

"Yes," the Doctor replied simply, honestly. Jackie nodded decisively. Then, after a moment, she pulled the surprised Time Lord into a brief hug, then stepped back again into the comforting arms of Pete.

Rose looked around one last time – her mother, her father, Mickey stood close to Jake, the house she had lived in but could never call home. She held Mickey's photos in one hand, and keeping them smooth, carefully put them in her jeans pocket. The Doctor stepped forwards subtly as she summoned a tearful grin for them, her brown eyes imprinting their faces into her memory.

"Well," she said eventually. "I guess this is goodbye." She laughed nervously, discretely raising her sleeve to wipe her eyes.

"Come on," the Timelord said gently, touching her arm. Obeying, she nodded and turned away from her family, leaving them for the very last time. Her lip hurt from the way she bit it, but she managed to leave the house before another tear fell, which she dashed away in almost embarrassment, her eyes flicking over to the impassive face of the Doctor. At her look, he looked across.

"It's never easy leaving your family," he said, leading them across the grounds to where he had left the TARDIS.

"It was easier before," Rose replied, her voice still thick. "But I suppose split-second decisions are always easier."

They walked on in silence, the Doctor respecting her need for silence and she trying to control herself and unable to think of anything to say. They entered the TARDIS without a word, until Rose saw the control room for the first time, and laughed out loud, her eyes spilling over with unshed tears.

Alarmed and not a little hurt, the Doctor turned, folding his arms.

"What?"

"It's," she gasped out, staring in amazement at the console. "It's so _retro_!"

"'Retro'?" the Doctor repeated, injured. He glanced around as he pulled off his jacket and hung it up on a hat stand, looking at the familiar roundels and white walls with a comfortable feeling. "That's my TARDIS you're insulting!"

Rose got herself under control with some difficulty, grinning as she looked around, running her hands over the oddly similar controls.

"So how long have you had this then? It looks _so_ seventies."

"I'll have you know this was the height of Gallifreyan time travel," he said, wagging his finger but playing to her light mood. "This control room was designed to be practical, not to be pretty."

"Well, I think you succeeded," she joked.

"Oi, no more of that," he rebuked with a smile, setting in the dematerialisation sequence with ease. To her surprise, there was barely a shiver when the rotary column started moving, and he grinned smugly at her obvious awe. The next minute, there was a large shudder under their feet and Rose reached out for something to hold on to, grabbed a reasonably empty part of the console and glared back at him. His grin turned sheepish as he quickly turned a gauge.

"Practical eh?" she commented, wishing there was the usual railings around for her to grab onto instead of flailing at the controls, not sure if she would hit something vital or not.

"Mostly practical," he replied with a slight frown, flicking a few more controls around before settling them into a simple cruise through the vortex.

Rose pulled herself off of the controls, pulling her jumper sleeves down over her hands and fiddling with the ends nervously. They hadn't gone into the actual technicalities of the situation, and now she was here she felt much worse. As well, her head was starting to her ache and her legs felt slightly weak, and she was acutely aware of the fact that, despite the vastness of the TARDIS, they were still in a small blue box, buffeted around in the vortex.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm alright," she replied quickly to his concerned glance, dropping her sleeves.

"You might feel a little ill now we're in the vortex," he told her, moving around the console towards her, occasionally tweaking the settings. "The universe is sort of more concentrated here, so to speak, so you'll feel the impact a bit more. But," he said, looking up with a reassuring grin, "with any luck, you won't be here long enough to be too affected."

Rose nodded. "So, how are we going to-? I mean…" She took a deep, steadying breath. "How am I going to get from this universe to mine?"

"Well you said there was a time rift in Cardiff, didn't you?" Rose nodded. "Then I think if I dematerialise there and align my controls with those of your Doctor's TARDIS so that he is going to be in the same place at the same time… all that remains is to give you a leg up, so to speak."

Rose frowned. "But how are you going to align your controls with his?"

"Ah," he grinned. "That's where I need your help. Do you have your key?"

Reaching inside her jumper, she pulled out the chain and handed it over. Luckily the small piece of alien metal had calmed since it had shown her the way to the TARDIS and was behaving almost normally again, except for a slight vibrating buzz if she clutched it hard.

He took it and examined it carefully, scrutinising the simple metal with all the concentration he spent on setting in the materialisation sequence. He frowned in thought, then dropped to the floor, and started fiddling with the underside of the console, undoing a panel and pulling out whole handfuls of wiring, to Rose's worry.

"Are you sure that's safe?" she asked, crouching down next to him, and then immediately falling back as a few faulty wires sparked.

"Erm, reasonably?" the Doctor replied, delving into his pocket for the sonic screwdriver and attaching the key to a complex-looking system of wires and circuitry with it. Then he pulled himself back up, offered a hand to Rose who pulled herself up, and checked something on the TARDIS.

"Aha! It works!" he exclaimed in delight, grinning. Another wire sparked, and his grin fell a little as he frowned, counteracting it with a few more switches. "Well, mostly. The technology is roughly compatible, but it won't last long – the power difference is too great."

"But how is that key going to make sure the Doctor is in the right place?" Rose asked, still confused.

"That key is not just an ordinary key," he told her, glancing over some readouts on a computer screen that looked like it was showing some sort of arcade game as opposed to alien technology. "It's psychically and trans-spatially linked to the other TARDIS in a similar way to the way you are linked to the other vortex, but not on such a big scale. If I reverse the polarity of the inter-dimensional flow on this TARDIS and input the co-ordinates like so," his hands ran over the controls as he talked, "and I run that through the dimensional-field I've created around the key, then it should pull the other TARDIS to the same co-ordinates as us."

'Well, that helped,' Rose thought, watching him fiddle with whatever it was he had just been babbling about. But it wasn't important that she knew what was going on, she admitted with a little chagrin. While he wasn't paying much attention, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper. With one eye on him, she walked across to the hat stand and tucked the paper in one of the jacket pockets, before returning to the controls and looking at the monitor in utter confusion. It looked like one of those old computer screen savers with never-ending pipes, but at the same time it had some sort of pattern that she knew if she looked long enough she would make out…

The Doctor gently but firmly moved her aside as he finished up, then turned to her.

"I don't know what's going to happen," he warned her, and she nodded seriously. "The pull between this universe and yours might be enough that just being in the same place and time will pull you through, but it might not, and we'll have to deal with that when it happens."

"OK," Rose said, smoothing her jumper nervously and tucking some stray hair behind her ear.

"Ready?"

"Yep."

With a grin, he reached out for her hand with his free one, and with the other hit the starting button.

And then all hell broke loose.

* * *

In another universe, another Doctor with a pinstripe suit and old eyes was sitting in the library, an open copy of Homer's 'Odyssey' lying in his lap, the first page looking up at him in disappointment. He wasn't even looking at the page however, his gaze was in the distance as he tried to forget. With sudden anger, he stood, lifting the hardback book in one hand and throwing it bodily at the bookshelves that lined the wall. It hit them with a satisfying thud and fell to the floor, its pages skewed and untidily sprawled across the floor.

He glared at it, then sat as suddenly as he'd stood, more falling to the armchair than anything else. He closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands.

The next minute, he was startled from his melancholic musings by a familiar sound – the warning ring of the cloister bell. With a sudden, worried burst of energy, he dashed out of the chair and for the console room, the incessant ringing matching his pounding footsteps.

He dashed into the control room, nearly tripping over his own feet in his hurry and immediately palmed the monitor-display button, and read the message with confusion.

_Unauthorised external dematerialisation._

Turning to the controls, he managed to piece together that they were going to twenty-first century Earth before a whine from the rotary column attracted his piecemeal attention. It was having even more difficulty than usual, as if only grudgingly allowing movement, or the signal it was following was faded.

After a moment's hesitation, he tried to stop it, pulling as many of the power switches as possible, but to his greater surprise and shock they failed to move, and when he tugged harder, the console sparked warningly, and he jumped back.

"OK," he said out loud, raising his hands in supplication. "OK, I won't."

They were nearly at their destination anyway, so he might as well wait and see who had pulled the TARDIS off course this time. Putting his hands in his pockets as if to prove to the timeship that he wouldn't touch anything, he moved back to the monitor and scanned the readings.

Twenty-first century Earth… no Earthling would have the technology to do this, not in the twenty-first century, so it must be alien. His eyebrows raised when he saw the destination – Cardiff.

Immediately, he thought of the rift. Perhaps something had come through the rift, and was pulling him in – for what? Help? Death? Or maybe something that had been attracted to the rift's power source as he once had, and for some reason had hacked into his controls and was steering him there too?

He rapped his fingers absently on the controls as he thought hard, before shrugging. He couldn't do anything about it, and if the TARDIS was getting personally involved so much that she didn't want him to touch the controls at all, then it stood to reason that it probably wasn't anything too harmful. Unless that was down to whatever external force as well.

As the TARDIS came to a shuddering halt, he pulled his tie tighter around his neck and straightened his jacket. With a pat on the controls that was more perfunctory than fond, he headed for the doors and pulled them open to step outside.

It was night time. The darkness and cool air hit him suddenly, a complete change from the TARDIS comfortable temperature that he had been living in for too long, and he breathed it in like a drowning man. The cold pinched at his nose and his skin, so he figured it must be maybe late autumn or winter, and a clear night, judging by the backdrop of stars that was dulled by the streetlights. Really, humanity was almost determined to make the worst of its pretty little planet.

He strolled around a little while, mostly up and down the deserted market square, trying desperately not to remember the last time he'd been here, walking up that street with Rose's head leaning on his shoulder, Jack on the other side joking and laughing. The TARDIS had even managed to dematerialise in the same place as last time, he realised sourly, giving the police box a half-hearted glare.

Ghosts aside, there was definitely nobody else here – not even a few humans. He frowned, leaning against the silvery monument in thought. _Something_ had brought him here, and whatever it was, it didn't appear to be out here. Pulling himself up, he shoved his hand in his pockets to protect them from the wind and walked casually back into the TARDIS. There had to be something the old girl could tell him.


	8. Chapter 7

I am so sorry! Would you believe I actually forgot about this chapter? hangs head in shame It was finished like a week before Christmas and I was going to post it up as a present to you all, but what with one thing and another and everything... it didn't. Now I find it in my files, go "Oh !" and post it asap, despite the fact that I'm probably going to get pelted by tomatoes for the wait.  
Oh well, here it is chaps and chapesses - The End. Of course, now I've done this I've thought of three other absolutely-fantastic-must-be-written ideas for bringing Rose home (aided and abetted by the TARDIS playset and figures I got for Christmas, and yes, I am 17...), the main of which involves a new battle in the ever-occurring Time War, Daleks, Cybermen, the Rift, Captain Jack and lots of horribly angsty moments... sigh  
Sorry bout the ending to this - I had to have a sad ending in there somewhere. It also does not now quite link up with the FANTASTIC end of 'Torchwood', unless you suspend disbelief a bit.  
Thank you all for your continued reviews and such, because they are such a help - really. I know everyone says this, but it's true - really true. THANK YOU ALL.  
PS - One of the reasons for my absence has been trying to write a 2000 word (short, I know) old series story to be published for the Big Finish Short Trips range. Unfortunately, my brain is unwilling to supply suggestions for the title and it's got me all miserable, especially as the deadline for sending is the end of this month. Argh. And I now have no idea why I just told you that, but I can't be bothered to delete it so it'll stand.

* * *

**Chapter 7**

In an underground installation, below the concrete and cars of the centre of Cardiff, a tired man in a suit was playing solitaire on his computer. This early in the morning there would be no one to disturb him, and there were likely to be no interruptions, but he found he still couldn't sleep, visions of the past keeping his eyes awake and fixed to his computer screen.

He glanced at his coffee cup and wondered if he could cope with another before exploding from too much caffeine. Probably not, he thought with a sigh, finishing the game with practised ease and going to turn off the monitor. He wondered if the others would notice he'd been here all night again, unable to go home because this was home. His excuses of having to stay and 'keep an eye on things' was wearing thin, and no work would be done until morning when Gwen would come in with a smile and a laugh, followed by Owen with his grumpy anti-morning behaviour and Tosh's quiet arrival. Jack would probably turn up from wherever he went sometimes with his expression serious and some task or other for them all, and then the day would begin.

Just as he was closing his other programs and heading for the off switch, he took a glance at the outside camera, just to check out of mild interest. With a half-hearted frown, he zoomed in on the picture, wondering if it was a shadow, a trick of the light. For a moment, he gazed in miscomprehension at the shape, before he woke up and gaped, his face going white.

It was definitely him – of that there could be no doubt. He was exactly the same as from the exhaustive reports from London had read, and that and the blue box…

Leaping up, he nearly threw empty coffee cups and piles of paper all the way across the floor as he dashed to the door, hoping that Jack would be in like he often was. He wasn't experienced enough for this, he couldn't deal with this on his own at three in the morning, not a code nine…

The main office was dark and empty, Jack's greatcoat was gone, and Ianto sighed in frustration, before pulling his mobile out of his pocket. And, to top it off, the damned man had it on voicemail.

Voicemail dooms us all.

"Jack? This is Ianto. I need you to get over here right now; we've got a code nine – I repeat, a code nine. He's here, Jack, the Doctor is here."

* * *

She wasn't unconscious, but it wasn't until the Doctor's face – still blue eyes and short hair – was over hers, looking concerned and with a gash of blood across his forehead that she could focus and reality came rushing back. Rose sat up with a wince, her hand going to her head and cradling it, thankful there wasn't a hint of dampness.

"Are you alright?"

"Fine," she replied. "Just a little bruised I think."

The Doctor helped her up, his arm going under her elbow and taking her weight until she was standing securely.

"What happened?"

"The console blew up," the Doctor said calmly, "you fell and hit your head, and I managed to shield you from the blast."

"What?" Rose asked, aghast. Sure enough, the console was blackened on one side, with a large hole that spewed frazzled and twisted wires, and the floor was covered in dust and pieces.

"I think the strain was a bit much for the old girl," the Doctor said critically, poking the non-working end of the sonic screwdriver in to inspect the damage. "Her trans-dimensional circuits are fried, but everything else seems pretty much intact. Nothing a few hours tinkering won't fix, will it, old girl?" He patted the controls comfortingly. "But right now," he turned back to Rose, his gaze serious. "Right now we need to figure out how to get you back before things get worse."

"But how can I travel through the universes? I thought you had to go through the Void to do that?"

"Pish tush," the Doctor replied, waving his hand as one might to swat a fly. "I've been through the gap without even touching the Void. And with such a large source of energy as the rift on hand… That's it!" He grinned exuberantly. "Open the rift, tap that power source, use the key to reopen the link between the universes and off you go!"

Rose grinned too, caught up in his enthusiasm. She watched, her heart rising in her chest as he dashed around the rather dubious-looking console and fiddled with buttons, before undoing a large section of panelling with his sonic screwdriver to reveal a large abundance of circuits.

"Thing is," he was explaining, pulling out sections of circuit boards and then tossing them back again before finding the one he wanted, "I don't have an extrapolator to link to the rift with, so I'm gonna have to make the dimensional-field that hopefully," he checked it and grinned, "is still working, hook that up to the TARDIS' power supply and then hook _that_ up to the rift with this clever device here." He held up a device that looked suspiciously like an egg timer, with sections for wire-connections.

He continued explaining something to do with counteracting space or time differentials, but Rose could barely hear him. Her headache had increased beyond the pain from the bruise on her head to a feeling like her whole head was going to explode, and the feeling was moving steadily throughout the rest of her body. Her skin looked almost normal as she brought her hand up to her face, but whether it was her dazed imagination or a trick of the light, she felt like every atom of her was being pushed apart by golden light that was hovering just below her skin, barely visible.

_Bad Wolf will out – she will be free_.

It was like a whisper in her head, some thought that had only just drifted to her attention or a memory long-forgotten. Her thoughts were all getting jumbled, and the nausea had returned to her stomach, so she sat down on the floor before her weak legs could make her fall down.

"Rose?"

She vaguely noticed the Doctor, dropping what he was doing immediately and coming over. She only just felt his cool hand on her forehead, her eyes refusing to even focus properly on him so he was just a blur.

"Doc-tor?" she breathed, forcing herself to concentrate.

"It's getting worse," he told her. Then something about having to leave and work or something drifted over her head and he left again. She couldn't focus on anything except the pain, the feeling of being forced apart and on breathing, forcing each breath in and out.

The Doctor worked feverishly, glancing up only rarely to check on Rose. He shouldn't have been surprise to see her collapse – her body was dealing with the contradiction remarkably well, and he was surprised it hadn't happened earlier. It did mean, however, that time was of the essence, so he forced his mind onto the task and made yet another fiddly little connection that was vital to the workings.

It felt like hours later when he straightened, though it could only have been a few minutes as Rose was still awake, her head lolling slightly against the wall. Now he just had to have her linked up and he was ready to go.

He crossed the room and assessed her quickly, before simply lifting her up and cradling her unresponsive body against his as he carried her back to the console. Then he laid her down, propped up against the edge and reached inside the makeshift circuitry from earlier, producing a slightly sooty but still intact key, which he placed in her hand, closing her fingers around it.

She was nearly unconscious now, but he gently tucked stray hairs behind her ear, stroking the soft hair briefly.

"Good luck, Rose Tyler," he whispered, his blue eyes soft and sad, before standing and turning to the controls. He patted them encouragingly as he reviewed the system in his head. "Come on old girl, let's do this."

Carefully, making sure he made no mistakes, the Doctor ran the materialisation sequence, anxiously checking the rotary column as it wheezed into life. The engines warmed up, fuelled by the intense power of the rift that was being opened and directed by his makeshift system and instead of the usual hum there was a rumble, the floor shaking as the TARDIS' systems were thrown to the maximum.

In her dazed state, the most Rose was aware of besides the shaking floor was the key in her hand. As the engines increased, it warmed, glowing in her palm and spreading warmth up her arm and through all of her, until she felt like she had been wrapped in a large, warm blanket. The floor beneath her faded away in a rush of white light and she closed her eyes tightly, grasping the key in her hand until it came free from it's restraint and she was floating, spinning lost in a sea of warm light. Her headache was seeping away into the light, but it was replaced by a prickling heat beneath her skin.

_Bad Wolf is free!_

She felt exultant, the heat both burning and soothing like a hot bath after being in the cold. She felt free – as if she could spread her arms and fall forever into the never-ending light, but something was pulling her, pulling her home.

His face, brought up from her memories, sad and pale focused her, and her hand clenched around the key in her hand. All of a sudden, she wanted to go home, to him.

Rose fell through the light that seeped through her eyelids like the strongest sunlight.

_Bad Wolf shall go home_.

And then it was gone – the floor appearing underneath her, the light fading. She was home.

* * *

The Doctor (pinstripe edition) sat on the bench in the control room and reviewed the monitor for the millionth time.

Earth. Cardiff. 2006. November.

So why was he here?

He sighed and shifted position, bringing his knees up to his chest and linking his hands around them. It didn't make sense. No alien activity for miles (or at least, no hostile alien activity), no disruptions in the time-space continuum, nothing. Like someone had just suddenly decided that he had to be in Cardiff, today.

He was still musing as the console started to hum back into life, a few tiny lights flashing. The Doctor looked up, spotted the warning lights and stood, curious. Before he could do anything else though, the ground beneath his feet started to shudder, and he grabbed the railing in alarm.

"What in the name of-?" he exclaimed as the doors snapped shut and the rumbling continued. Then, with a flash of white light that blinded him, the TARDIS gave an almighty jerk and he was thrown off his feet and onto the floor, narrowly missing hitting his head. Quickly, he grabbed onto the bottom end of the railing and held on, trying to pull himself towards the console, but the light was too strong, and he had to clamp a hand over his eyes.

Then it was gone. The TARDIS stilled, the light faded. The Doctor opened his eyes, blinking away tears of pain. His vision focused quickly, but for a long moment he just stared, his elbows resting on the floor. Then he was up, pulling himself forward towards the recumbent, achingly-familiar figure slumped across the floor. With shaking hands, he pulled her towards him, his hearts in his throat, barely believing the evidence of his eyes and hands.

"_Rose?"_

Rose blinked, focusing her eyes and looking up. She smiled slowly and launched herself up into his arms, throwing hers around his neck. In a second, he was hugging her just as tightly, their cheeks pressed together as they cried.

"This must be a dream," he whispered, clenching his eyes shut.

"It's not," Rose replied brokenly, grinning broadly through her tears. She could _smell_ him, the very touch of him gave her life and he was real, really real.

"But it's not possible," the Doctor said, pulling back reluctantly to gaze into her face, searching for something wrong that would shatter the illusion. She just grinned beneath her tears and raised one hand to wipe away his carefully. Despite himself, he closed his eyes at the gentle touch, leaning into it like a cat, before snapping his eyes open again, as though he couldn't bare to have them closed for too long.

"I'm real, and I'm here," she told him. "For good." She laughed, a beautiful sound to his ears. "You're stuck with me!"

They hugged again so tightly they could feel each other's bones, but that was somehow a reassurance that despite everything, they were there.

"Rose Tyler," the Doctor breathed, his tone still wondering. "Oh I love you."

"Quite right too," she replied quietly, cheekily, pulling back again. She felt like she couldn't take her eyes off of him, not if they stayed in that position for another hundred years, the mere pleasure of seeing him enough to keep her going.

"How did you get here?" he asked incredulously. "Moving between the universes is impossible!"

"Nothing's impossible," Rose replied, grabbing his hand and pulling him up as she stood so close together that nearly every part of their bodies were touching. "It's a long story," she added when he didn't look convinced.

"Tell me over a meal?"

"Over chips," she joked as he set in the dematerialisation sequence with one hand, refusing to let go of hers.

"Whatever else?" he replied, pulling at the levers with gusto. Rose wormed her way into his embrace easily as they dematerialised and reached up to kiss his cheek unashamedly. The Doctor blushed, but grinned, and set in the final details, before sending them both off into the depths of time and space with a single press of a button.

* * *

Repairing the console to a workable standard took much longer than he had thought, and the absence of Rose touched him, even though he had only known her for a day or two at most. The feeling of having someone else around, someone to talk to had revived him and made him feel younger, though he had vowed after the War to never take a companion again. The danger and risk was too much he had decided, but now he wasn't so sure.

Pulling down his jacket from the hat stand, he threw it on, and with confusion, pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. Understanding dawned as he read the short note.

_Find Sarah-Jane – it was Aberdeen, not Croydon!_

_Captain Jack Harkness, 1942, London._

He hummed for a moment, looking over at the patched console, before shrugging with a smile. Why not?

The Doctor tucked the piece of paper into a deeper pocket and set the controls for Earth, Aberdeen, 1976.

* * *

"Where is it, Ianto? Where?" Jack yelled, bursting into his office. His expression was definitely not one to mess with, and Ianto found himself shaken despite his usual serenity.

"Who?"

"The Doctor!" Jack exploded, his eyes bright with impatience, anger and something darker, more painful. "Where is he?"

"Upstairs, outside the centre," Ianto answered immediately, puzzled. The next minute, Jack was dashing out, ignoring the incredulous stares and calls from Gwen and Owen.

The Doctor.

Here.

That was the only thought in Jack's mind as he ran as fast as he could, his coat flying out behind him. Not even wondering why the Doctor would be there, or what he would say, he sprinted across the square towards the police box, the familiar shape causing his heart to ache. He was nearly there, a hair's-breadth away when he felt the tell-tale wind swirl, heard the rotary engines start up, and the TARDIS disappeared before his very eyes.

"No!" he shouted, dropping to his knees. He could dimly hear the sounds of quick footsteps behind him, knew Gwen and the others would want an explanation, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He just buried his head in his hands and cried.


End file.
